Trees and Stars
by Bardaholic
Summary: Clexa drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

Clarke was born and raised in space. She had spent most of her life so far looking out at the stars, gazing at the earth from a distance. She'd spent countless hours staring out of the viewing window in her room, daydreaming about life on the ground and depicting it in images using whatever she could get a hold of on the Ark.

Then she'd been propelled to the ground with the other prisoners. She had landed on earth, finally felt her feet touch soil and grass. She was able to see and touch real trees, feel the texture of the bark and study the veins and vibrant colours of the leaves. She had looked up to find a blue sky above her, filled with fluffy white clouds. She was able to swim in lakes and experience the stars and moon from a new breathtaking angle. She'd felt the thrum of raindrops against her skin. She had seen the sun rise and set, bathing the sky in fiery colours, and had thought that she would never see a more spectacular sight.

But now she was seeing Lexa come undone beneath her hands. The stoic, ruthless commander reduced to soft sounds, soft expressions, soft skin with muscles straining beneath the surface. All for her. Green eyes turned dark, brimming with emotion. Arched back, fingers grasping at her shoulders, wanting to be rough but trying to be gentle. Goosebumps and fine hairs standing on end in the wake of feather-light touches.

A short, sharp cry. Eyes closing. Body trembling and collapsing. Sharp collarbones and jaw beneath Clarke's lips. Satisfied sighs. Desperate hands trying to pull Clarke impossibly closer.

Lexa's eyes open again, glistening with tears as she reaches for Clarke and draws her in for a deep kiss. Soft, full lips dancing slowly together. When it ends Clarke watches a single tear escape down Lexa's cheek. There's no trace of the commander here, no _Heda_. Just Lexa. Open, vulnerable, expressive Lexa wearing her heart on her sleeve. She looks afraid, overwhelmed, as though she can hardly believe it's real, until Clarke lays a hand on her cheek. She subtly leans into the touch and graces Clarke with the softest of smiles, her eyes heavy-lidded but still locked on to Clarke's, and Clarke thinks - no, she knows - that this view right here is the grandest, the most beautiful, the most awe-inspiring. This is the sight she feels most privileged to witness.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke longs to create images of Lexa, to depict her in sketches, paintings, and carvings - the way she'd created images of the earth she had imagined whilst on the Ark. So she does. Again and again, and Lexa marvels at her talent, not understanding the way Clarke looks at every finished product with a slight frown and downturned lips.

Lexa holds Clarke's latest creation in gentle hands and she blushes at seeing herself the way Clarke sees her. Only her face fills the canvas, larger than life and full of rich colours and details. Lexa had no doubt of the source of Clarke's inspiration; Lexa, on her knees before the Sky Princess, war paint smudged and heavy-lidded eyes sparkling in the candlelight, filled with promises and adoration.

Lexa remembered the way Clarke had reached out and touched her face with reverence despite the heat of the moment. Soft fingers had traced her cheekbones her jaw, her lips - blue eyes fixed on her green as she bit down gently on the pad of Clarke's thumb. Lexa knew now that Clarke had been memorising every detail of her expression to recreate the moment with the small collection of art supplies she'd found in a bunker recently.

Lexa doesn't mean to sound so breathless when she speaks. "Clarke, this is - I -". She swallows and tries again, focusing on the skill rather than the subject matter. "If this is what you're able to do with a few colours and brushes..."

Clarke smiles at Lexa's awe and blushes lightly as she walks over and kisses the commander on the cheek in acknowledgement. But her frown returns as she looks down at the painting in Lexa's hands. "It's okay, I guess".

"Okay? Clarke, it's amazing. Do you want more colours? We can find more. We have some craftsmen among our people in Polis, they may be able to make some for you".

Clarke laughs lightly and shakes her head. "It's not that, Lexa. Although I wouldn't mind having more colours".

"So what is it then, Clarke? You never look happy with your work".

Clarke takes the painting from Lexa's hands and puts it aside. She steps up close to Lexa, putting her hands against strong shoulders as the slightly taller woman's hands come to rest at her waist.

"I could have all the colours in the world," she begins in a raspy whisper. She leans in closer and closer as she speaks until her lips are gently touching Lexa's cheek, her chin, her nose, punctuating each word. "Watercolours, oil paints, pastels, pencils, pens. I could have all the canvases, all the sketchbooks, every kind of paper and every kind of paintbrush. But I still wouldn't be satisfied".

Lexa's face is tingling from the brush of soft lips and she takes in Clarke's easy smile and hazy eyes. She tilts her head in question.

Clarke chuckles. She leans in and her lips tickle the shell of Lexa's ear. "My art of you will never be as breathtaking as the real thing".


End file.
